"I don't believe that he will have much to say about the farm while
Mrs. Jameson has a tongue in her head," said Louisa; and I agreed
with her.

When we saw Mr. H. Boardman Jameson at church the next Sunday we were
confirmed in our opinion.

He was a small man, much smaller than his wife, with a certain air of
defunct style about him. He had quite a fierce bristle of moustache,
and a nervous briskness of carriage, yet there was something that was
unmistakably conciliatory and subservient in his bearing toward Mrs.
Jameson. He stood aside for her to enter the pew, with the attitude
of vassalage; he seemed to respond with an echo of deference to every
rustle of her silken skirts and every heave of her wide shoulders.
Mrs. Jameson was an Episcopalian, and our church is Congregational.
Mrs. Jameson did not attempt to kneel when she entered, but bent her
head forward upon the back of the pew in front of her. Mr. Jameson
waited until she was fairly in position, with observant and anxious
eyes upon her, before he did likewise.

This was really the first Sunday on which Mrs. Jameson herself had
appeared at church. Ever since she had been in our village the
Sundays had been exceptionally warm, or else rainy and disagreeable,
and of course Mrs. Jameson was in delicate health. The girls and Cobb
had attended faithfully, and always sat in the pew with the Liscoms.
To-day Harry and his father sat in the Jones pew to make room for the
two elder Jamesons.

There was an unusual number at meeting that morning, partly, no